What the Eyes Cannot See
by Blind writer
Summary: **indefinite hiatus** Trying my hand at something few would undertake - Tsuuten/Genshi shounen-ai. That's right, shounen-ai. No, this isn't a parody. Aww, c'mon, give it a chance! You know you wanna read... XD
1. Prologue : The Dreams of Humans

I _will_ get a normal, decent fic up one day, I promise. -_-; Anyway, this was done in a random bout of un-creativeness, and somehow morphed into something totally different. This is the prologue, since I plan to expound on this concept. So far, it's expounding into something quite long and beyond what I had originally planned. -_-; Warning: This story contains shounen-ai, Tsuuten/Genshi, and no, it's not a parody. Read if you dare. ^_^

R&R, onegai shimasu. *bow*

**What the Eyes Cannot See**  
Prologue : The Dreams of Humans

* * *

He'd been young once.

It was a very long time ago, granted, but yes, he was young once. The common folk in the Ningenkai commonly thought of the sendou as immortal, when in fact they weren't. They could die just like the next man. Even for someone who had lived as long as he had would eventually wither beyond his bones and quietly turn to dust. Not a single sennin had lived beyond the re-creation of history. No one, save for the ancient ones, could live that long. They embodied time, ageless, forever old or young as they pleased. What was youth to them anyway? Youth...

It was so long ago, his memories had faded to that dull, monochromatic haze, easily forgotten if allowed. Should he ever ponder on it too long, his head would hurt from the burning brightness of other encroaching memories. He was sure many assumed he was born an old man; many couldn't possible conceive of him as even being a mere human once. He was even attractive in his day.

Tired eyes looked out across the expanse of clouds and floating rocks. He had been many places, seen many things, experienced what normal humans could not fathom beyond their dreams, and yet, to the ancient ones, he was still a mere child. Be it as it may, he was still among the eldest humans to ever exist. The ancient ones fell into a class all to themselves. Though they fathered this world, they couldn't truly understand it or be a part of it.

He closed his eyes, the bright sky too exhausting to bear. He sometimes wondered if his role in the flow of history was complete yet. He had entertained his hopes of ages past. He had carried out his duties as outlined. He had survived storm after storm of strategic mind-games. He even prepared himself for the beginning of the end.

He glanced idly towards his meditating (slumbering) pupil on a distant rock and sighed.

/How human of him.../

Ou Eki, though an ancient one, was unique. This reincarnation of him, this... "Taikoubou" was so humanesque, it startled him. This humanized ancient acted human, ate human food, enjoyed human things, dreamed human dreams. He dreamed a magnificent dream of a world without sendou. With his youthful ferver and bright, blue eyes, nothing was impossible to him. The world was for the taking.

He returned his attention to the gently flowing clouds and sighed once more. He, himself, had once fancied a magnificent dream. He had dreamt of a united heaven where youkai and humans could co-exist peacefully. With his own youthful ferver and bright, blue eyes, he thought nothing was impossible to him. The world was for the taking. Or, so he thought.

Yes... He'd been young once.


	2. Ch 01 : When Youth Fades to Darkness

This fic... is turning out to be much longer than I had anticipated. Updates will be slow-going. Footnotes denoted by asterisk marks - check the end for explanations.

Warning: This story contains shounen-ai, Tsuuten/Genshi. Tread carefully! ^_^

R&R, onegai shimasu. *bow*

**What the Eyes Cannot See  
**Chapter 1 : When Youth Fades to Darkness

* * *

"Hehehn." The boy stared intently as the two crickets duked it out in his make-shift boxing ring, crudely constructed from a few thick blades of grass and some small rocks. Two of the opposite corners held a small, battered piece of torn cloth pinned under a stone - one yellow, the other a dirty white. It was a childish hobby, but being scarcely more than a child, he could enjoy such minor pleasures, and did so quite often in fact. He fidgeted in anticipation as the slightly larger insect took the advantage and tore a limb from its smaller cousin in a painful looking tear of exoskeletal flesh. It wasn't the best of fights, but provided entertainment none the less.

He hooted loudly, as a referee would, when the smaller cricket finally ceased its twitching and the victor crawled away, leaving the carcass for the ants. "Aaaand the yellow corner wins!" Snatching the two small, coloured rags, he toppled the ring and ran off. His laugh carried on the wind, and he let his arms spread like a bird's wings, rags trailing from his fingers. The sudden motion had disturbed a nearby flock of birds, sprinkling flustered feathers and startled cries into the breeze. He grinned and hooted again, chasing after their panicked forms.

"One day, I'll be able to touch the sky!" His giggle continued all the way home.

"Mamaaaaaa, I'm hooooome!" It was a bit past lunch time. He really hadn't intended to be late - it was the crickets' fault for taking so long! Not that he'd really tell her _that_... Pausing to stuff the coloured strips under his shirt, he stepped into the threshold. "Mama?"

From the corner of his eye, he saw a faint shadow scurry away. His mother turned, her face flushed and startled. Closing her eyes in a motion to regain her composure, she sighed. "Where have you been young man?"

/Out of sight, out of mind./ Disregarding the shadow as a rodent, he grinned at his mother. "Sooooorrry. I got caught up in some things on the way back." He plopped himself down on the ground near the table. "I promise I won't do it again." He ducked his head and lowered his eyes, waiting for her to finish chastising him. He _was_ hungry, after all, and didn't feel like yelling back.

He peered up at her when she said nothing. She had her back turned to him, and was apparently fixing his meal. He blinked. /Odd. Must be in a good mood... She hasn't been like that since.../

His thought process was cut short as she turned and presented his food to him. He grinned in spite of himself. It was nice to see his mother in a good mood. Her hair, cut in traditional mourning style, had already regrown to shoulder-blade length. It had been a while. He ate in silence, mindful to not leave any rice pieces behind*.

"You're growing to be quite a fine young man," his mother mused aloud. "You resemble your father in many ways." She reached out and lightly pet her son's hair. "You even have the same green hair." He looked back at her, quietly. She rarely discussed his father, and on the occasion that she did, he could _see_ the tears being held back. What concerned him now, however, was the fact that he no longer saw unshed tears in her eyes, merely a fond remembrance.

/What had _happened_ today to put her in such high moods?/ He slurped the last of his rice, and set the bowl down, leaning forward on his elbows. /And am I really getting _that_ old? I'm only 14, geez./

He grinned at his mother. "Too bad you're my mother, huh? Not many pretty girls around here."

She blushed lightly at that, as she did every time he complimented her. He'd gotten good at that particular skill, since it was one of the few ways to cheer her up. Not that she really needed cheering up at the moment, but her behavior was a little off today. He didn't know how else to act.

"You flirt. You should use your charm on the girls." His expression turned sardonic. She knew he never flirted. How she knew _that_ was still beyond him, but he just never found it to be an interesting thing to do. /A wasted talent,/ she had said once. /Maybe you'll grow into it,/ she had said. /Wait a few years./ It didn't really matter to him - he just didn't care about the girls.

"Heh," he countered. "Why find myself a pretty lady when I've already got one at home?"

She rolled her eyes at the retort and ruffled his hair. "One day you'll understand, Sonshou." Standing, she took his empty bowl and left to clean the mess he had made, effectively signifying the end of that discussion.

/One day? Like that'll ever happen./

* * *

He couldn't remember the first time he had done it. It had been during so many years of his life, that it was like a habit; an obsession of sorts. He had completely stumbled over it after the first few times, and since then couldn't stop. He was also pretty sure this had occurred many years before he was ever born, but he preferred to leave those type of speculations to sages like the fabled Roushi.

/Bet he's an old fart who's so used to traveling the 'way of the mind', he can't even use his own eyeballs anymore. Who's got time to waste on thinking anyway when there's so much to do?/ He didn't relish the thought of becoming one of those old men who were always splurting out philosophical nonsense. /Idiots don't even know how to live./

It made him tired during the day, but that's why he always took a nap in the mornings while out in the field. It wasn't like his mother knew or anything. Or maybe she did. He could never tell. But this was one thing he would never reveal to her outright.

He waited until the moon reached its highest point before quietly sneaking out of the house. It only happened once a month, and he couldn't remember a time when he had missed it. He visited every night because he liked to, but the night of the full moon was always special - he'd learned that a very long time ago. Maybe he _was_ obsessed. Oh well.

He slipped his sandals on and grabbed a throw from the hallway. Pausing only to put it on as guard against the night chill, he slid the front door open and stepped outside. He grinned and breathed in the cool mist.

There were many reasons he liked the night time. It had such a surreal beauty to it that contrasted against the glaring brightness of day. The mists which formed during the night diffused the light of the moon into a pearly haze, obscuring anything beyond the distance of a few paces. Some nights, he couldn't even see more than 5 feet in front of him. Other nights, the mist was so thin, you could see the stars peeking at you. Both had their traits he admired.

Tonight wasn't particularly special, nay for the brightly shining moon. He was partly thankful for it, it would make the trip a bit easier. He snatched a bucket by the doorway, and made his way towards the river. It wasn't the river itself that was so special to him. It was the lake it fed water into.

Though he loved the night time, he didn't blindly love it. Night was a very dangerous time to go milling about, especially with all the wild animals roaming around. He'd heard tales about intelligent animals who could talk, and he didn't want to bump into a smart, man-eating tiger along the way. He needn't worry about muggers since his home was far from any large village, but there was still the off-chance that a random warrior would pass through. He loved the night, but he wasn't stupid. He respected it.

Wary, and light on his toes, he made his way to the river bank before following the water's course to his final destination. The faint trickling of the water filled his ears, and he made his steps as quiet as possible. /No need to break the calmness with noisy shuffling. Besides, it might be time by now./

He hunched over as he approached the shore. He'd done this countless times, yet every time he still felt a faint rush of adrenaline. Perhaps it was for the best - he had yet to mess up. Crawling towards the log he used as a nightly seat, he silently dipped the bucket in the water. This place almost disturbed him by its quietness in the dead of night. The water itself no longer made noise, the crickets all seemed to avoid this area, and all the night animals kept their peace. It was as if they could sense the magic about this lake. Slowly, he let the water trickle from the bucket back to its source. The noise seemed so imposing in the surrounding silence. If he didn't know what he was doing, he might have stopped on principle. It seemed wrong to disturb such a place.

He wasn't fascinated by the solitary noise. He wasn't fascinated by the water. Nor was he fascinated by the ripples of the moon shining off the disturbed surface. What fascinated him were the blue sparkles forming in the center of the lake and emerging like glowing crystals. Water sprites.

Quickly, he hid behind a nearby bush, clinging to the buckle handle. He'd never actually talked to one of the sprites before, and even if he wanted to, he was sure he would be a huge, bumbling mess. He'd heard stories that they were a mischievous sort, and found himself ill-suited to match their wit. The most he could do was disturb their peace and watch in the shadows. Once, he mustered enough guts to toss a pebble a fair distance into the lake before bolting like a crazed animal, afraid of some divine retribution. He hadn't returned for weeks, still too afraid the sprites would pass some horrible judgment on him. For now, he stuck to the slight disturbance to jostle them from their home. His courage stopped him there.

It wasn't the sprites which drew him here tonight this time, though. Every other night he could spy on their antics, and he just wasn't as interested as he would be other evenings. Tonight was the full moon, which drew out the more fabled beast. The kitsune.

Though he might've held the guts to disturb the water sprites, he held no such bravery for disturbing the kitsune. He left that job up to the bickering sprites. He really couldn't understand what they were saying from his hiding spot - it was more like annoying, high-pitched squeaking - but he could tell they were most displeased by being disturbed. And it was their vocal annoyance which always drew the kitsune.

The very first time it happened, he about had a heart attack. A faint grin graced his lips at the memory. He'd never run so fast in his life. Not even when he had tried throwing that pebble.

While he knew a little about water sprites, he knew even more about kitsune, and nearly all the stories about the fox creatures were unpleasant. It took him another few weeks before he returned to the lake after that incident as well. After a few months, he discovered the kitsune only appeared on the full moon. He wasn't quite sure about the reasons for that, but so long as he knew the schedule, he wouldn't be so unprepared. He felt himself fascinated by the creature. It was dangerous sort of hobby, he knew, but he liked living a little on the edge. How many people could say they've seen a kitsune and survived _once_, much less even half the number of times he had?

Quietly, he waited for the sprites' voices to carry. It took longer some nights than others, and he hoped his wait wouldn't be an extended one. At least he was sure the sprites would be at it for another few hours. Well, until the kitsune showed up, that is.

He blinked as he heard a faint rustle of leaves in the otherwise silent landscape. The tiny creatures of myth hovering over the water drew quiet, and looked into the direction the noise came from.

He frowned. Normally the water sprites fled in terror from the fox spirit. Mischievous though they may be, they could never match wits with the mastermind known as a kitsune. That was another reason he never wanted to disturb the grand beast himself - he was sure he would somehow wind up selling his soul to the wily creature. This time, however, the creatures of water stayed in place, silent, expecting.

Flitting his eyes around, he searched for the source of the noise. Now that he thought about it, the kitsune never made noise in its approach. His frown grew. /What...?/

He squinted against the darkness as some black masses flowed to the shore a fair distance away. His eyes narrowed further. /Sheep? What the hell are sheep doing out here in the middle of the night without a shep...herd./ His eyes quickly flit around, searching for their master. Right now was certainly _not_ the best time to meet up with a psychotic man, kindly shepherd or not. _Especially_ a psychotic, kindly shepherd. The only possible weapon he had was a measly bucket! And that kitsune was surely roaming around, as well.

His eyes finally fell on a form floating along with the sheep. If it weren't for the circumstances, he would have burst out laughing at the notion of a shepherd using his sheep as a form of transportation. But, now was not the time for humour.

The stranger's amber eyes pierced through the darkness, pinning his hiding place as easily as it had been daylight in an open field. His expressionless eyes were disconcerting in the darkness, the only light coming from the blue hue of the sprites and the ivory haze of the moon. He practically looked like a ghost.

He blinked down to check for legs*, and was even more disturbed to find rather long, dangling pant legs. His thoughts ran in a fever-pitch. /Those're legs all right. Pretty well covered, but those are legs. Where do you get pants that _long_? And those clothes of his are weird, too. I've never seen a shepherd wear _that_ before. What kind of person would wear-/

Abruptly, the wildlife around began to murmur, whispering short nothings, all blurring into a single, soft noise. He cringed back when the noise slowly formed into a chant. Disjointed, and mantra-like in pace, his eyes widened when the words clicked in his head. /That's.../

"He's the farmer's son..."

"He disturbs this peace..."

"That is the one who visits every night..."

"He's the one called Sonshou..."

"He is the seed of the future..."

"That boy is the young leader..."

"That's the one who will match Roushi..."

"He's the one we seek..."

"He is the one..."

The yellow eyes met his in a long stare. "You are the one."

He about wet his pants. "Oh... shit." Dropping the bucket he was so few moments ago clinging onto for dear life, he fled. Never ran so fast in his life? Well, this time he ran faster.

* * *

Footnotes:

(1) It's bad luck to leave any pieces of rice uneaten. For each piece uneaten is a year bad luck. It was a superstition told to children to make sure they ate everything.  
(2) It's a common belief that the dead, aka ghosts, don't have legs.


	3. Ch 02 : The Seeds of War

I've done some thinking. I've decided to take a few liberties with Taijou Roukun since I believe that 5,000+ years can do a lot to a person, and being that Roushi is the only one of the 3 great sennin in the current timeframe, I'd say he has a slightly different take on responsibility. Normally I wouldn't do this sort of thing, but it seemed logical, so...

Warning: This story (will eventually, I promise!) contain shounen-ai, Tsuuten/Genshi. Read with caution!

**What the Eyes Cannot See**  
Chapter 2 : The Seeds of War

* * *

Roushi stared after the vanishing boy as he fled before turning his attention to the silent lake. The water sprites that had been disturbed earlier still hovered quietly above their home, watching the sage with interest. The murmur from before had quieted down, and the eerie silence of the place had returned to its former state, daring anyone to disturb it. It was only suiting that the wise sage would be the one to do so.

"What began as a game has turned into something much more real than he could have imagined. The project started with him before he even realized it. Such is the order of things."

"Has he seen, has he seen?"

"Our voices speak, they speak, they speak."

"The beast comes naught. Is it time, the time?"

Roushi regarded the small spirits before him.

"We play our part, the part, the part."

"Roushi knows all, all wise, so wise."

"Has his vision been seen, been seen?"

He closed his eyes against the vexatious water beings. "I see... the roots of a war in a future's past. It is a root so strong, even I cannot break it. The heart of this planet beats deaf to its two siblings at odds. We are but captive puppets who must play our role for the hope this project brings. War is inevitable."

"The wise sage speaks, he speaks, he speaks."

"The war comes hither, come hither!"

"And thus is why we trill, we trill."

"Our voices speak, they speak, they speak."

"It's the beast he seeks. It's the beast he'll find, he'll find."

* * *

It was those piercing yellow eyes that haunted him all the way home. He didn't really care if he woke his mother up, he just had to get away from the vastness of the outdoors - the same outdoors he usually cherished. He carelessly slid the door open, before slamming it shut behind him. A grand shiver crept up his spine as the words returned to him.

/"You are the one."/

Slumping to the ground, he ignored the mud smears his shoes made on his clothes. He wasn't quite sure how long he had been sitting there, hugging himself, before he noticed his mother hadn't come out to investigate the noise. Blinking against the blackness, he crawled up the threshold.

He nearly called out for her, before thinking better of it. There was a faint possibility that she had slept through the entire event, but it didn't stop his worry - he had made an _awful_ lot of noise. He would've been stupid to not at least check up on her, even if it earned him a lengthy lecture.

Light on his toes, Sonshou creeped through the house, feeling akin to a burgular in his own home. Nearing his mother's room, he titled his head at a soft noise eminating through the paper thin door. He frowned. His mother didn't snore, nor were they noises of her usual wakingness. Getting closer, he pressed his ear against the wall. Widening his eyes, he drew away as if it had burned him.

His mother's soft voice seeped through the cracks to his far too sensitive ears. "Ah... A-aah...!"

/No way. ... EWWWWW! Gross, that's my MOM!/ His lips curled in distaste, slinking to his own room. /Well, that certainly explains how she missed all the noise I made./ Reaching his room, he shed his muddied clothes, and shivered onto his bed. /Gods, can't I get _enough_ trauma for one night?/

Sonshou turned to his side, and stared out to the night sky. Normally the sight of the calm blackness soothed his soul, but tonight it held a disturbing silence, hoarding the owner of those yellow eyes. Shifting to his other side, he glared tiredly at the wall. Not that his own home was any more comforting. Right this second, his mother was doing something... unspeakable with some strange man. Not just any strange man, either. A strange man he had never heard about or seen in any fashion. The thought drew another grimace to his face. /That's so gross! Parents don't _do_ that!/

Was there really no safe haven for him to run to? Sitting up, he turned his attention once more to the night sky. Silent for a moment, his fingers curled tightly into his disheveled clothes. /Heh, no better place to snooze than the closet. Right?/

* * *

"You're running. You keep running and running, 'til you can run no more. What will you do then?"

"W-who are you?"

"Do you want to know what will happen when you can't run anymore?"

"I don't want to know. I'm sure I can run forever."

"When you can run no longer..."

"I can't hear you! I won't hear you! I won't listen! I refuse!"

"... your legs will give out..."

"Stop it! Shut up!"

"... your breathing becomes laboured..."

"Please... Stop it...!"

"... your defenses run out, and the energy you burned running makes you feel like a million stones in weight..."

"Please..."

"... without that energy, your very essence become weak..."

"Stop..."

"... And we all know the weak die."

"I won't die! I can't die! My mother needs me!"

"The weak die. That is the order of things."

"I'm not weak!"

"Stop running. Running will only weaken your soul."

"But if I don't run, then I'll disappear. I'll sink into the blackness."

"... You have great weakness. You will surely fade from existence."

"NO! I don't want that! I refuse!"

"Then listen to me and listen well."

"... Who are you?"

"Your true Father."

"Father...?"

"One day, you shall understand. On that day, I will name you."

"Name me?"

"Get stronger. Ask me then."

"Father... Aren't you dead?"

"Death is transcient and beyond your scope of true understanding. Please, call me Ou Eki."

"Ou Eki... But my father's name wasn't-"

"I am timeless and beyond death. Reach for me, and the strength shall be yours."

* * *

"Sonshou? ... Sonshou?" The voice was so faint, he almost hadn't heard it through the haze of his dreams. Sitting up earned him a quiet groan, and a nasty crimp in his neck. Maybe the closet wasn't the best place for him to sleep after all.

"Mama?" His voice was a croak, barely audibly. His mother's footsteps grew louder as she made her way to the closet door. Her son blinked blindly at the stream of light as she slid the door open.

"Sonshou? What're you doing in the closet? Don't tell me you're afraid of monsters."

He ducked his head sheepishly, unwilling to tell her either truth of the previous night. "I uh... Uhm..."

His mother smiled, lifting her son from the dark cubby hole. "Come, I'll make you a good breakfast. Be sure to get dressed first. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

"Some... one?" Sonshou stood warily, stepping into his room. /Banish the memory, banish the memory, I so did NOT hear my mother last night./

"It's your duty and obligation as the man of the house to meet him. While you aren't quite old enough yet... I think it would be a good experience for you. Now shoo! I've got to cook breakfast."

"Mama?"

His mother turned in the doorway, regarding her son. "Yes?"

"Dad didn't... go by any other names did he?" He stared at the ground, long and hard, before peering up. He hating bringing the subject of his father up for fear of disturbing his mother, but his dream haunted him.

Her head tilted, eyes fading a bit at the mention. "You and I both know he only went by his real name. Your father was proud to be a part of his family. He wouldn't pretend to be anyone else, not even as a joke."

"Oh... Okay." Turning, he regarded the minute pile of clothes in the corner. Some his father's, they were all the clothes he ever owned. "Just curious..."

"... Remember to dress nicely, Sonshou." On that note, his mother left him.

* * *

His mother and their guest were in the midst of frivolous conversation when he finally made his way into the kitchen. He had tried stalling a little earlier, truth be told. This sort of thing wasn't exactly something he thought he'd relish. It was a little too soon, in his opinion, to meet the man who was shagging his mother. He bet the man didn't even know how to farm correctly, much less the lunar cycle and best times for planting.

"Ah, Sonshou! I was wondering when you'd finally find your way out here. I'd like you to meet our guest."

Blue eyes stared at yellow eyes in stark disbelief. "Hello, Sonshou. My name is Taijou Roukun. Your mother's told me much of you." His eyes were the same as before. Calm, unflinching, penetrating, hiding a reservoir of knowledge he was certain couldn't be humanly possible. What was he? A demon?

"Y-y-y-y-you!" Sonshou raised a shaky finger, almost accusingly at the piercing eyes.

"_Sonshou_! That's no way to treat our guest!" His mother rose from her knees, Roushi's gaze unwavering.

"No! Nonono!" He stuck his fingers through his hair and shook his head. "NO! Stop looking at me!" The implacable fear from the night before thrilled through him full force, bringing him to hysterics. The yellow eyes continued their piercing gaze, flickering with something undefinable.

"Sonshou!"

"I haven't done anything! I haven't, I swear! Blame the sprites! My mother has no part in it, leave her alone! Leave ME alone! Stop chasing me!" Turning around, he fled the kitchen in a dead run. "I can run away from you, damnit!"

"Sonshou!"

"Let him go."

"But..."

"It's okay. He'll tire himself out, and he'll have no choice but to return. He'll always come back home. He wouldn't leave you alone."

"Sonshou..."

* * *

Afterword:

Oh my god, I SO want to kill those stupid sprites! Why did I have to go and choose some distinct speech pattern for them that was so annoying? It was really hard trying to come up with certain phrases that matched their speech pattern well and still conveyed the meaning I wanted. Death to water sprites! x_x

Fic is on indefinite hiatus. Personal reasons.


End file.
